Galloping Girl

a6bce2a9b3bde895481b23a196873464bI have her high libido to thank. She does what she always does and enjoys the sensations growing inside her. At the moment she rises to climax her arse bucks vigorously. She reminds me of a horse racing along the final straight at the Melbourne Cup—picks up speed, and gallops on down to the finishing line. As her breaths of ecstasy subside, a muffled voice on the other side of the bar asks, “Again?”

I knew it. This virgin was a slut in-waiting. A torn ear no longer mattered. It was worth ignoring her. I wanted to remove her from that submissive, pig-on-the-spit arrangement but she didn’t want to. She liked being treated like a piece of meat, jabbed by an unseen stranger she couldn’t shake off. Women are funny creatures. Ask and they won’t give, but take and they’ll give more. It answered a conundrum I’d had since I was a young man—should I have waited for the virgins to make their decisions or suited myself?

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